You Only Hide
by bulletproof
Summary: Starts with an alternate-'Out' and then ships the hell outta the first season. Unrepentant M/L.
1. You Only Hide

**y o u . o n l y . h i d e**   
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)   
characters owned by cameron/eglee productions. song by something for kate. 

PART 1 

_//You only hide because you know I'll find you//_

She'd kissed him. 

She'd full on the lips, mind-numbingly, heart-stoppingly kissed him. 

And he hadn't called for a week. 

Funny. And yet, not so funny. 

Deep down, Max knew it had to be something to do with her explaining away of the kiss. Her clumsy little attempt at clambering back up from her fall from grace, fall from restraint. It wasn't Logan's fault that she was a genetically-engineered killing machine incapable of handling real emotion, but it didn't make it hurt any less. 

She glanced at her pager again as she descended into the throng of noise and action of the Jampony nerve center. 

No messages. No vibration. No beep. 

Sighing, she tucked the offending item away and floated straight by Original Cindy, Sketchy and Herbal, sailing to her locker in her own little locus of calm and proceeding to go through the day's motions. 

Her locker popped open with practiced ease and she slid her personal belongings into the space. Shutting the door, she was startled to see Cindy's face on the other side, brow raised in having not received the morning's expected greeting. 

"He still ain't called, has he?" 

That small piece of reality broke into Max's tranquil denial and she ran a flustered hand through her hair, stammering. "Wh-who?" 

"Rollerboy," Cindy clarified, snatching away Max's pager before her hot little red hands could interfere, "Your beeper thing ain't been beepin' all week and you been about ready to bite everyone's head off for 'bout the same time. Two and two equals Logan ain't callin'." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Max grumbled in return, easily slipping back into 'disgruntled-deny-everything-girl' mode and rescuing her pager, clipping it safely back on her shorts. 

"Damn straight you do!" Cindy exclaimed with her patented 'don't-pass-no-bullshit-by-me' look on her face, "Checkit. Sketchy, tactless, brainless Sketchy is keepin' a twenty mile radius from you 'cos he too afraid to say 'Hi'." 

Max looked pointedly at him, daring him to make Cindy right and, seeing her intense attention trained on him, Sketchy waved a cautious hand from the corner, "Hey, Max." 

"Sketchy," she replied evenly. 

"Please don't kill me," he grovelled nervously, coming to his knees in front of her, "I'll denounce my gender. Bad, *bad* men who have commitment issues and can't take responsibility for their actions and run away from their emotions." 

Faced with that list of crimes, Max's temper rose anew, fingers quickly turning to fists as they lifted slightly of their own volition. 

"See?" Cindy intervened, grasping Max's wrist before they could be the source of damage, "There you go again! If that ain't 'I-need-to-kick-it-with-Logan-now' tension curling in your palms, I don't know what is." 

Original Cindy heaved another sigh, gripping Max by both shoulders and looking her dead in the eye, "Boo, just go see him before you take out any more of your 'I-hate-men' rage on Sketchy and he turns himself into a Mister-Sister. You and I both know that ain't gonna be pretty." 

"Yeah," Sketchy concurred, inching towards Max on his knees, "see Logan, go see Logan." 

"Hot run, slackers!" Normal yelled at the audience that had formed around Max. 

Max broke out of her reverie and free from the crowd as she grabbed the package out of Normals hands and was out the door before he'd had the chance to say 'Bip'. 

Original Cindy stared after her through the parted crowd, "I only hope Logan can handle her." 

Sketchy nodded, "Yeah...Who's Logan?" 

Cindy rolled her eyes at him, "Men! You been payin' attention at all?" 

Sketchy only shrugged, receiving a smack on the back of his head from Cindy. 

* * * * * 

Max stood at Logan's door and swallowed. Was it hot in here? Why was she shaking so much? Placing her palm on the thick, redwood door, she thought about knocking, then thought about leaving, thought about the hundred-and-one places other than here she could be, and swallowed again. 

She was doing this, damnit, she was going to get some answers from him, she was entering this apartment...but since notions of knocking on the front door, confronting at the front door and getting said front door slammed in her face only brought notions of flight, breaking and entering seemed to be the only way to go. 

Slipping past the door and its intricate set of locks effortlessly, Max was greeted with the sounds of smashing glass, a grunt of pain and the smacking of flesh and metal on the kitchen floor. 

Fear knifed through her hard and fast as an eerie quiet descended upon the apartment and she dared not whisper his name. 

She sank into the shadows and weaved through the dull, lifelessly stale air like the urgency that pounded in her blood, tamping down on the need to scream from the emotion that rattled in her bones, resonated in the suddenly hollow bounds of her skin. 

She slid soundlessly into the kitchen and the gasp of cold crept up on her before she'd known it had escaped her mouth, doing little justice to the scene that lay before her. 

Red covering his forearm, red staining the pristine white of his shirt, red creeping, crawling across the kitchen floor. Red, red, sinister red and the nasty ring of purple bruise around his eye. 

Kneeling in the chaos, Max propped his torso against hers, murmuring panicked nothings in his ear as she clutched his head to hers, running shaky fingers through his matted hair. 

Turning to face her, Logan streaked Max's face red with reassuring fingertips and, pushing a painted thumb past her lips, he quieted her, "Sssh. Hey, hey, it's nothing, I'm fine. I just overbalanced trying to reach the bolognaise sauce." 

Running a tongue over the intruding digit, Max calmed as she tasted the tomato, and not copper, tang of the sauce. The myriad of colours that ran rings around his right eye, however, was another matter. 

"What's this, then?" she asked, reaching to touch it, but he flinched from her intended motions. 

"I wasn't careful." He muttered, turning away from the worry in Max's eyes. 

"With what? Someone's fist in your face?" she retorted, unable to elicit more than a wince from Logan at the remark. Noticing they were still sitting in the red mess, she remembered, "Where's Bling?" 

Logan bristled further at the question, "I sent him home. I sent him back to Vancouver." 

"What?" Max yelped, jumping to her feet. 

Righting his wheelchair, Logan busied himself with the movements to get himself seated, unable to look at her, "Maybe it's about time you got gone too, huh?" 

"Why are you pushing everyone away?" Max seethed, lowering her eyes as the revelation came to her, "What kind of danger are you in?" 

"I'm not," he returned, pushing away from her, "just leave me be, OK?" 

"Don't do this." She replied in a dangerously low voice, flipping the brakes on his chair and impeding his escape, "If you're in some kind of trouble..." 

"You're right," he conceded, eyes still fiery, "*I'm* in some kind of trouble. This is *my* mess, and *my* party, and you're not invited." 

"But-" 

"I'm *not* dragging you into this, Max. Bling's already got more injuries than his body's ever seen for his efforts, and I won't have anything happening to you. Not on my account, and not on my watch." 

She knelt in front of him, features softening as they got to the crux of the matter, "In case you haven't noticed, Logan, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. And I can take care of you." 

Max ran gentle, feather-breath fingers across his swollen, blackened flesh and he hissed at the gentle intrusion. 

"Please? Let me take care of you." 

He grimaced, but at her insistent smile, he let his own break free and he touched the back of her palm gingerly. Her hand still rested on the swell of his cheek. 

Max looked into Logan's eyes and the sentiments she found there were a little tender, a little... raw. 

She pulled away with a sniffle. 

"Besides, where else do I get a free meal and a real bed?" 

He gulped. "You're moving in here?" 

"Well, yeah. *Somebody's* gotta make sure you don't drown in in your own spaghetti sauce." 

They shared a tentative grin. 

Logan nodded, "Go get your stuff and tell Kendra I'm stealing her roommate." 

Max groaned inwardly. 

Kendra was going to have a field day with this turn of events. 

**END PART 1/?   
  
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	2. Protection

**y o u . o n l y . h i d e [v.out**, out**]**   
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)   
characters owned by cameron/eglee productions. song by massive attack. 

PART 2 

_//I'll stand in front of you, take the force of the blow. Protection//_

"You're moving in with him?" Kendra's grin split wide and knowing on her face. 

Max shrugged as casually as she could, all too aware of the way Kendra's eyes were analysing her each and every move for any hint of emotion as she whisked around the apartment, throwing her things haphazardly into a knapsnack. 

"His PT's outta town and somebody's gotta make sure he doesn't roll himself outta one of those high rise windows." 

Kendra stopped and crossed her arms across her chest. 

"What?" Max protested at being falsely accused, "We don't have that kind of relationship." 

Kendra raised a brow. 

"We don't!" 

"Fine," Kendra conceded, walking over to Max, "but don't tell me that two people with the unresolved sexual tension that you have won't *somehow* end up in bed together." 

"We don't have that kind of relationship." Max maintained wearily. 

"Yet." Kendra smirked, "Have I taught you how to make pasta tricolore?" 

* * * * * 

Max stood at Logan's front door and swallowed again. 

Just twenty-four hours ago, she'd been standing here, worried about him slamming it in her face and now she was moving in with him. She shook her head slightly at the irony and fumbled in her pocket for the keys. 

Another strange point: she didn't have to break into his apartment anymore. 

Slotting the key into place, she turned the handle and pushed the door open to find Logan waiting, grinning on the other side. 

"Hey." 

"Hey." 

"So you want me to show you how to get the door open? You seemed to take a while figuring it out," he teased, that boyish mischief lighting his eye. 

"No, I think I got it licked," Max deadpanned. "Smartass." 

They stared at each other playfully as was a customary end for their banter before both realised that now there really was no end, that Max didn't actually have to go home. 

They simultaneously dropped the gaze to stare at the floor, Logan thankfully remembering his gentlemanly sensibilities and wheeling over to take her bags before the tension got impossibly thicker. 

Leading her to the guest bedroom, he announced, "This is your room," before setting her bags on the bed. He motioned her over to another door within the room and opened it for her perusal, "and this is the ensuite." 

Max walked into the small bathroom, running her fingers along gleaming enamel surfaces. "Nice. Where does this door lead?" 

"Uh, that's my room," he informed her, scratching at his chin, "is that gonna be a problem?" 

"Are you going to *make* it a problem?" she asked, eyes twinkling. 

Logan laughed nervously as thoughts of walking in on her while she was in the shower flitted across his mind before he answered with a mock salute, "No, Ma'am." 

The tension they'd shared at the front door passed over them again and Logan quickly back-tracked to leave her in the room, "I'll leave you to get settled. Dinner'll be ready at seven..." 

"No," Max protested softly, "I'm the one that's supposed to be taking care of you, remember? And besides, after all the times you've cooked for me, I think it's time I returned the favour. So, you just go," she motioned him towards his computer room, "do your thing, and *I'll* have dinner ready by seven, OK?" 

Logan's brow creased, "Max, are you sure-" 

She simply pointed him away again, "Go!" 

He chuckled soundlessly, tipping a sloppy excuse for a salute her way and followed her orders. 

* * * * * 

Two hours, three broken plates, twelve worried inquiries from Logan and many heated orders out of the kitchen from Max later, they were both seated at an immaculate table, complete with sparkling silverware, crystal clear wine glasses and two steaming plates of respectable-looking main courses. 

"Bon appetite." Max invited, the foreign vowels rolling strangely over her tongue. 

Logan smiled at her imitation of the phrasing he had used just two weeks ago at this same table and he scooped a hearty fork-full of the dish into his mouth. 

"So?" she asked with an expectant grin on her face, "How's the pasta tricolore?" 

"Good," he assured her before eagerly taking another mouthful. 

She smiled, pleased with herself and she shovelled her own pasta-laden fork into her mouth, nearly choking as the taste hit her tongue and she forced herself to swallow it down her throat without spitting it out. 

"How can you eat that?" she spluttered, watching him happily devour yet another bite of her creation. 

"What do you mean?" he asked between mouthfuls, "It's delicious." 

"It's burnt." 

Logan shook his head and considered the pasta before him as if it were a piece of art, "Just finely seared. It adds to the texture." 

Max balked at the sight of him swallowing more and more of the pasta as she in turn took swig after swig from her wine glass to wash the dirty aftertaste from her mouth. 

"I think I used the sugar instead of the salt at one point." She confessed. 

"And that's what gives it its unique flavour." Logan countered. 

She smiled at his attempts to make her feel better, but pushed her dish away nonetheless, "Whatever you say, just don't eat it on my account 'cos I'm certainly not gonna." 

They shared a smile before they both settled to eat in amicable silence, he her pasta tricolore and she the bread she had toasted along with it. 

"So how was work today?" he asked, pushing the last of his pasta across the plate with his fork. 

"Fine," she shrugged, shaking her head in rememberance of the days events, "Cindy could *not* get over the fact that I was moving in with you, Herbal kept saying it was 'all good' and Sketchy almost kissed me he was so happy with the news." 

At Logan's raised brow, she rolled her eyes with a grin, "Don't ask. So how about you? How was your day at work?" 

Logan tensed, pursing his lips almost imperceptibly as he averted his eyes from her gaze. 

"Spill it," she ordered, onto him. 

"What?" he surrendered, throwing his napkin onto the table, "Nothing to report; all quiet on the western front." 

"Nuh-uh," she insisted, "you got that 'I'm-hiding-something-from-you-for-your-own-good' look on your face." 

Logan shrugged, still not able to look her in the eye, "I don't know what to tell you." 

"How about telling me how you got that shiner?" she suggested, indicating the bruise that was slowly fading from the flesh around his eye. 

"I told you," he repeated in a careful, measured tone, "I wasn't careful." 

She regarded him in scrutiny, looking for a crack in the armour he was putting up around himself and letting her mind tick over the past week. 

"It was Bronck, wasn't it?" she concluded, "I caught your last broadcast...a whole week ago. You haven't stopped Eyes Only because of this guy, have you?" 

"Max..." he started, the slight growl in his voice warning her that she was treading on touchy grounds. 

"I'm gonna kill that guy!" she exclaimed, storming away from the table to get her jacket, ready and raring for battle. 

"Max, no!" his order boomed throughout the room and she stopped dead in her tracks. 

He sighed and pushed himself away from the dinner table, wheeling over to the lounge area where she followed, "This is exactly why I'm stopping all Eyes Only activity. I don't want to be putting you in any more danger than you're already in what with Manticore, with the seizures, hell, with just living in this city. Every time I send you out on a mission, I'm more and more worried that you won't be coming back to me, and not because I won't break the story or help the hapless public." His hand ran restlessly through his hair and his eyes finally pleaded with her, "I don't want to be the one that gets you killed, Max." 

She furrowed her brow and sat down in the couch next to his chair, taking his hand in both of hers, "You think that this is just about you? That this is just your fight? You're wrong, Logan." 

Max took a deep breath and thought of the best way to explain this to him, "All my life, I've been thinking I was a freak. A genetically mutated killing machine that had no part in this society. But then you came along and you...you gave me a purpose. You gave me a reason, a reason for being, a reason for having this revved-up, super-charged body...and I started to believe all your blah blah, woof woof about humanity...I started to believe in you." She drew her hand down the line of his jaw and made him look at her, "Don't take that away from me." 

"I never knew..." he whispered, tracing his own fingers down the curve of her cheek. He felt *that* tension creeping up on them and grinned wide to break it off, "If we hurry, we can catch Bronck before he catches his flight to L.A." 

"That's my boy." she smiled, grabbing the jacket beside her and leading their way out the apartment. 

**END PART 2/?   
  
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	3. Hidden Place

**y o u . o n l y . h i d e [v.red**, red, sinister red**]**   
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)   
characters owned by cameron/eglee productions. song by björk. 

PART 3 

_//Can I hide there too? Hide in the air of him; seek solace; sanctuary//_

They'd been living together for a week now and were slowly settling into a routine: he would cook, she would clean, and thrice weekly, Max would lead him through a PT workout she had conjured up herself, quickly dubbing it the 'If you don't I'll whoop your ass' workout. 

Throughout the week, they had co-existed amicably enough, but mornings, it seemed, were another matter. Logan was not a morning person and Max had found this out shortly after she had jogged into his room, bouncing off the walls and suggesting they go for a morning stroll in the park. She'd gotten a pillow in her face as an answer. 

Thereafter, Max had learned to make as little noise around the apartment as possible in the morning, so as not to wake her grumpy roommate, but this morning, she didn't seem to care. 

"What's this?" she demanded, bursting into his room and throwing a folder onto his bed. 

"Good morning to you too, Max." He grumbled, blearily eying the folder, "Have you been going through my files?" 

"I was *organising* your files, and excuse me for taking an active interest...whatever! This isn't about that. This is about you being stupid enough to even *think* that I'd *consider* helping that worthless, slimy, good-for-nothing..." 

"Who?" Logan interrupted her tirade. 

"Bruno Anselmo!" 

He groaned, "I was wondering how to break that to you. Bruno's the only witness left alive who can-" 

"I know," she snapped, "I read the files." 

"Then you'll know how important this is. The *Mayor*, Max. I've been wanting to bring him down for months." 

Logan sat up, rubbing a hand over his face and the bed sheet fell away to settle on his lap. Max gulped as her gaze raked over his bare, toned upper-body, the line of the sheet and her line of thought riding dangerously low on his hips. The line that might or might not have been concealing the edge of his boxers. Her resolve almost crumbled at the sight, at the thought of being that close to Logan while he was this naked. 

Almost. 

"No way, no how, Logan. I am not lifting a *finger* for that scumbag." She maintained, trying to keep her voice as hard as possible. 

Logan, however, noted the little diversion her gaze took, the slight wavering in her tone, and quirked a smile, turning on the charm, "Oh, well maybe I can play witness protector and you can be waiting for me at home with fettuccine bosciala and grilled salmon with Cale's special sauce." 

Max regarded him analytically, "The fettuccine *and* the salmon?" 

"Your favourites." He assured and reminded her. 

"And does dessert come with this package?" she asked critically, hoping to add more to her end of the bargain before she committed to anything. 

"Anything your heart desires." He drawled, letting each syllable roll longingly over his tongue, allowing her to interpret the innuendo at will. 

She leaned down on the bed, retrieving the file and coming face to face with Logan in the process, "I'm gonna take you up on that." 

Max lingered in her position, lingered in the heat of his unhindered gaze, in the scent that spiced his naked skin, in the residual warmth of his cocoon of sleep. 

"Must say," she grinned saucily, almost whispering against his lips, "you're a lot less grumpy today than you are other mornings." 

A sexy smirk tugged at Logan's lips as he returned the favour, "Well, if you're willing to wake me up this way *every* morning..." 

They remained frozen to each other while inside they were chaos, souls crashing, stomach-butterflies quaking, hearts racing, racing racing... 

And then, thought stopped. 

Did they *actually* just say that? 

"I should get to work." 

"You should be at work." 

Their lines ran parallel as both scrambled back to a safe distance, back to safe topics that didn't involve dessert and after dinner activities and eat, drink, man, woman... 

Oh God. 

"Right," Max stumbled, making vague gestures at the door, "so I'll just-" 

"Go." He interjected, a plea, an imperative. 

She nodded shakily, turning around in a daze and heading to the door. 

"I'll call you," Logan called after her, cringing at how desperate it sounded, covering with, "a-about Bruno." 

"Yeah." She replied, hand on the door, clinging onto it like a lifeline. Max shared one last confused look with Logan and slammed the door behind her. 

Logan fell back on the bed, pulling a pillow over his head and groaning into it. The sexual tension in this apartment was killing him! 

* * * * * 

"You'd better come up with some damn good dessert, Logan Cale." Max snarled into the phone, glaring daggers at the bathroom door yet grateful for the barrier, *any* barrier, it provided against the man who was just behind it. 

Logan chuckled, knowing her tone and her temper all too well, "Ready to place an order?" 

Max growled, "You'll be lucky if I don't eat you alive for this. That man is driving me insane!" 

He sighed in sympathy, trying to appease her, "One more day and Bruno Anselmo is gone from you forever, I promise. In the meantime, just don't kill him, OK?" 

"I'm not making any promises," Max warned, "If he does one more..." 

She trailed off, leaving Logan hanging on the other line, "Max?", as he heard the sounds of a door being broken down and a short expletive from her mouth, "Max is everything-" 

"Logan, I'm gonna haveta call you back." 

The line went dead. 

"Damnit!" Logan cursed, slamming the phone down on his desk as irrational panic ripped through him. Max could take care of herself, he knew, but it didn't stop him from worrying about her safety, especially when he was helpless to do anything but watch and wait and hope she got out of it alive. 

Frustrated, but powerless to do anything about it, he turned back to the television and the frozen moment, immortalised on screen, that had sealed his fate. 

Watch and wait. Yeah, that was all he was good for. 

* * * * * 

"Hey," Max's smile drifted through the phone line with her greeting, but along with it, her weariness and worry. 

"Are you okay?" Logan asked, concern softening the edges of his voice, "I've been paging you for hours." 

"Yeah. Ran into some goons at the hotel." 

"Is Bruno-" 

"Yes," Max grimaced, "your boy's still intact. But only cos I caught the muscle chucking out the check-in boy. We're talking serious *artificially enhanced* muscle. This guy got tossed around like he was a rag doll." 

"You want me to check it out?" Logan asked, already booting up the informant net. 

"Well, you're the brains in this operation, I'm just here to look pretty." 

Logan chuckled, hearing the mock-pout in her voice, "And since you've got your job covered, I better get started on mine. Take care okay?" 

Max's voice softened in response, "Yeah. See you at the court-house." 

* * * * * 

"Bring it on!" 

There were four of them. No, three, but it felt like...God it felt like they were everywhere at once. All three, converging on her, and there was nowhere left to run cos everywhere she turned, there was another one of them. 

Max hadn't fought like this in a while. Fighting like they were brothers, equals. Yet so unequal. There were three of them and one of her and the desperation was starting to show in her imprecise movements, the unschooled kick and lash that was pure adrenaline, but the fact remained. Three of them, one of her. 

The sounds of squealing tyres echoed through the basement, as a familiar Aztec rolled up on the scene, guns blazing. 

Acting on pure instinct, Max clung to the last of her resources, digging deep to find the strength to overturn an attacker and pin another one to a cool facade of water with his own electrical prod. 

She jumped through the back window of the car and Logan took them far away, fast away, finally turning home when he saw they weren't following. 

The car stopped and she hardly blinked, hardly moved. 

"Max?" Logan's voice permeated through her haze, but she showed no sign of it, just felt him lean over her, over the crack in her rib, over the bruise on her forearm. 

"We're home." 

Home. She remembered a time when home was a sickly word, a hollow word. Home was with her family and the genetically engineered ties that bind. They bled the same blood and after combat training, it wasn't uncommon to have Tinga's and Zach's and Ben's blood on her uniform mixed with her own. It wasn't uncommon that any one or all of them would be missing from the barracks, in the hospital, cos she had sent them there. Or that she herself would lie awake in the infirmary, wondering how she'd gotten there. 

She slowly became aware of the slight pressure on her knee and hissed at the pain, trying to withdraw it but finding it locked in a firm, sure grasp. 

"Welcome back," she heard Logan say as he gazed into her eyes, trying to find her there. 

Max noticed that they were somehow in his apartment, sitting face to face on the vast leather expanses of one of his couches as he tended with achingly gentle fingers to her wounds. She found herself, more than anything, wishing she could remember how they had gotten here. She could only guess that he had deposited her in his lap from the backseat of his car and wheeled them both up to the top floor of his building. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, drawing her face to meet his as if to say 'Are you in there?'. 

Max considered the question seriously, "Yeah, I guess. It was a bit of a shock, that's all." 

"Yeah," Logan echoed and with it, she could see how deeply it had affected him too, "you had me worried." 

She shrugged, wincing as something inside her, the rib she had recognised as cracked earlier, made itself known again, and he was all over it, but she completed the gesture anyway, "It's not everyday that Max Guevara gets her ass whipped." 

He fussed over her, lifting her shirt partially to inspect the wound site and was bandaging it in a flash. "You sure you don't want someone else to look at you? I'm not exactly a doctor." 

Max shook her head gently, "It's fine. Manticore nurses couldn't have done a better job." She said, lifting her knee as if it were proof. 

"You'll scar." 

"I don't scar." Max flipped back instantly, rolling up her sleeve and showing him evidence to the contrary, "This? This is where Brin drew a dagger down my arm. On my stomach is where Zach steel-toe-capped me. I've got a scar down my left thigh from Krit. No one but my family marks me, Logan, and now? It feels like those goons took a piece of me...but they want more than that, don't they?" 

Logan nodded grimly, "They're part of the South African Government's Red Series. Artificially enhanced, just like you. Problem is, their wiring got screwed and now they're looking to copy from Manticore homework." 

"And telling them to just go away isn't going to work is it?" she heaved to what outward appearances seemed to be a tired laugh, but when she turned back to him, her eyes were shimmering, "Logan..." 

"Hey," he protested softly to the fear in her eyes, drawing her to him and enveloping her in his arms. 

She buried herself in his chest, lost herself to the warm oblivion she found there. This, she decided, this felt like home. 

"Can I hide here?" she murmured, nuzzling into his soft shirt, listening to the beat of his heart. 

And there, in home, in sanctuary, Max Guevara finally slept. 

**END PART 3/?   
  
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	4. I Know

**y o u . o n l y . h i d e [v.**he**art attack]**   
by bulletproof (bulletproof_android@yahoo.com)   
characters owned by cameron/eglee productions. song by fiona apple.   
transcript found at DarkAngelTV.com _  
bet you thought I'd forgotten about this one, huh? you don't get rid of me that easily, grasshopper._

PART 4 

_//And I will pretend that I don't know of your sins   
Until you are ready to confess, but all the time,   
All the time, I'll know//_

Max looked up from the book she was reading to stare forlornly out the window. 

She hated rain, and, living in Seattle weather, the bitch just kept on coming down. 

Diverting her eyes back to the book below her, one of the remaining few from Logan's library that she had yet to finish reading, she closed it disgruntledly, dropping it to the floor by the bed and rolling over so she was now lying on her back. What a way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Max chuckled as the sounds of Logan's soft singing in the shower made its way to her ears, past a tempest of raining water and the door seperating her room and the ensuite. Just one door between her and naked, wet Logan. A feline grin split over her lips involuntarily and her mind was starting to slide into a very sensual fantasy detailing the advantages of the slickness of said naked, wet Logan, when the phone rang. 

"Max," Logan called out from beyond the room, "can you get that?" 

"Hey, it's your phone, Logan," Max replied cheekily with images of him wrapped only in a towel coming out to answer the phone flitting across her mind, "you answer it." 

"If you haven't noticed, I'm kinda busy at the moment," Logan returned sarcastically just as they both heard his answering machine message play. 

"Oops, machine got it." Max grinned, already imagining Logan rolling his eyes in response. 

Walking out of her room to snag an apple, Max walked by and heard the message being left on the machine. 

"Hey Logan, it's Bennett. Just calling to say I'm getting married, buddy, and, uh, to ask if you'll be my best man. Y'know, it'll be fun, you get cake, you get to see my parents again, which, as I only know too well, is always a thrill, and if _that_ wasn't incentive enough, _Daphne_ will be there. Call me, OK? You got my number." 

Max stopped mid-bite and scrunched her brow as the machine buzzed and whirred, saving the message. 

Who the hell was Daphne? 

Taking careful, measured steps back to her room, a confusing mass of emotions rose in Max, and, picking up her book from the floor, she chose not to analyse them and to distract herself by reading. 

"Who was that, Max?" Logan asked, evidently out of the shower as he called from his room. 

"What am I now, your secretary?" Max sniped, busying herself by quickly flicking through a few meaningless pages. 

Completely dressed, Logan peeked through Max's door with a raised brow, wondering what he'd done wrong now. Max was furiously leafing through the book, oblivious to the words on the pages and, seemingly, to him. 

Shrugging, Logan continued down the hall and Max looked up at his departure, her entire body tensing as she heard him replay the message on the machine, waiting for his reaction. 

Would he tell her who Daphne was? Would he invite her to the wedding? Would the annoying questions ever stop breeding and multiplying in her head? 

Max growled at herself for getting so keyed up. It was _just_ a message, and he was _just_ Logan, and Daphne was probably _just_ some tall, gorgeous, curvaceous Miss Thang with feminine grace and feminine charms... 

Right, that was it. Max crashed her way out of her room, grabbing her sunglasses from her stand on the way to the front door. 

"Max?" Logan queried, sticking his head out the hallway and eliciting an under-the-breath curse from Max, "Where are you going?" 

"For a ride on my baby," her voice clipped shortly, wanting to be out of the penthouse and away from Logan Cale as soon as super-humanly possible, "if I'm cooped up here one second longer, I think I might explode." 

"But it's raining cats and dogs out there," he reminded gently, concern colouring his tone and marring his features as he wheeled in front of her. With the way he was looking at her, she could almost believe that he genuinely cared about her well-being, almost believe that he genuinely cared about _her_. 

With a reluctant groan, she pulled herself away from the scene, speeding herself out the door and throwing a hasty "Don't wait up," over her shoulder. 

Logan sat staring after her, scratching his head. 

* * * * * 

Max sunk into the blissful cacophony of noise that was Crash on a Saturday night. 

'Absolutely no space to think here', she grinned. 

Except that, you know, there was. Everywhere she went, her own little chaos was brewing beneath her skin, her own little crisis constantly circling around Logan, the wedding and Daphne, Daphne, Daphne. 

Max had already given Daphne the perfect life, the perfect history, the perfect figure. Made her a socialite queen with men dangling off her little finger, dangling on her every word. She was Miss World, brains and beauty, grace and charm, with all the right things to say and all the right times to say them. Of course, she was perfect for Logan. 

"And you tellin' me you still haven't straight up found her digs and just put the smack down on that bitch?" Original Cindy's trademark street slang broke into Max's thoughts but she was surprised to find her best friend addressing Kendra. 

The blonde shrugged, continuing the conversation, "Guess that's just not my thing. Besides, the guy wasn't that good a lay." 

"I can do it for you," Max joined in, "I did it for Sketchy a while back when this monster-bitch Lydia was..." 

Max trailed off when she saw the looks that both Cindy and Kendra were giving her. 

"What?" 

Original Cindy snorted, "Just nice of you to join the land of the living, is all. You ain't been conversing all week, boo. What's it like in that pretty little head of yours anyway?" 

"What?" Max defended herself, "I've been speaking..." 

"Uh," Cindy half-laughed, "like monosyllabic grunts. You ain't been here since you started avoiding Logan on Sunday." 

"Hey, what did he do, anyway?" Kendra edged closer to Max, giving her elbow a nudge, "It's like you're catatonic or something." 

"I got it," Cindy filled in for Max, "you two finally banged the gong and he was so good, you been speechless all week." 

Her two closest friends fell over themselves laughing and Max was just infuriated at how far from the truth that statement really was. "We don't have..." 

Original Cindy sobered up quickly, "I hear you tell me you don't have that kind of relationship one more time and I will knock your head around until you get a clue." 

"But-" 

"Face it, Max," Kendra interrupted, "you're crazy about the guy. He's got you so strung out, you don't know which ways up or down. One second you're bluer than blue and the next you're so tense you're ready to kill someone." 

"I am not tense!" Max barked out. Cindy and Kendra raised a collective brow. 

"So here's how the story goes," O.C. told her, laying out the cards, "you and Logan been happy dancing 'round each other and your feelings so far, but now something's come up and it's making you face said feelings smack-bang, head-on." 

"You're scared, Max," Kendra summed up, placing a reassuring hand over Max's, "'cos you don't know how much he means to you and how much you mean to him." 

Max was stilled by how insightful their comments were despite the fact that she hadn't actually told them what the dealio was. She cringed, feeling herself caving, "Well, there is this girl..." 

"Now we're getting somewhere," Cindy urged, both her and Kendra pulling their seats closer. 

* * * * * 

Max's distance was starting to take its toll on Logan. 

At first, it just amused him, putting it down to Max simply being her usual hot-and-cold self, and that it would blow over within twenty-four hours. A day turned into two and he grew perplexed at the situation, genuinely confused as to exactly what he had done to offend her. Days turned into a full week and she was still speaking in clipped sentences, still doing everything within her power to ensure that their hours didn't coincide, and now Logan was downright depressed, having figured out for himself what the dealio was. 

A little over a week ago, Max had fallen asleep in his arms, had let her guard down long enough for her to take actual comfort in him after a gruelling battle with the Red series. Now, it seemed, she was regretting her actions, and giving Logan all the space in the world so as not to give him the wrong idea, to make the message clear that that was definitely not what she wanted out of their relationship. 

'Of course' an annoyingly insistent voice crept into his thoughts over and over again, 'she doesn't need you like that. You're only half a man. You're nothing more to her than a free meal and a cause. The side-kick never got the super-hero.' 

Of course, of course, of course, but if it was so wrong for them to be together, why had it felt so right when he enveloped her in his embrace? Why had he felt such peace and such quiet confidence that with this woman in his arms, he could do anything? 

'Don't get any big ideas' the voice warned, 'you know you're just setting yourself up for the fall.' 

Logan gave a rueful breath of a laugh to the empty room and pinched the bridge of his nose before replacing his glasses and his command over the keyboard. 

Best stick to what he knew, to hide behind the mask of a faceless, thankless crusader, to emulate the valiant voice that called from the shadows, but always behind the scenes, in the background. 

Yet, Logan grimaced, picking up his calendar, he still had this damn wedding to go to. 

One little indulgence in life couldn't hurt him too much, right? 

"What's that big red circle around the fifteenth?" _her_ voice crept up on him, her gaze peering over his shoulder. 

He glanced up at Max and was surprised to find her eyes sparkling at him, "It's, uh, my cousin Bennett's wedding. He's asked me to be the best man." 

'Now or never, Cale,' he thought to himself, gulping down a little something called pride, biting down on something akin to outright fear, 'now or never.' 

"Think you could keep it free?" 

She nodded thoughtfully, "It's within the realm of possibility." 

Logan couldn't stop the grin from spilling over his face and a small, undampened part of his spirit felt like dancing. 

"Great," he replied, his voice all casual and even, "you feel up to shopping tomorrow?" 

* * * * * 

"I see it went well with Logan." Original Cindy walked into the Jam Pony female staff toilet, flashing a knowing grin at Max, half-dressed in an amber red, lace-detailed ball gown. 

"We bonded over shopping." Max returned sarcastically, stepping into an impossibly high pair of heels and proferring her back to Cindy to have her zip done up. 

Max could hear the smirk in Original Cindy's tone, "And you say he ain't your sugar daddy." 

Max was about to volley back a smart ass remark when she heard Logan's voice on the premises. 

"How do I look?" Max asked, pulling at the tendrils of her dark curls that swung around her neck, covering her barcode. 

Cindy smiled at the younger woman's apparent nerves, "What you so worried about, boo? You _live_ with the boy, I'm sure he already seen you looking like something the cat coughed up..." 

Max rolled her eyes, "Thanks, Cin." 

Cindy sighed, taking Max by the shoulders and pushing her out the door, "Original Cindy's only speaking the truth. Point is, the boy's _still_ hot for you, so this outfit is sure to please." 

Before Max knew it, Cindy had shoved her out the door, so she decided to make the best of it, hips swaying seductively as the dress clung to each and every feminine curve, making an entrance Logan wouldn't forget. 

His head turned on instinct and she felt his gaze burn every inch of her exposed skin, his smouldering look eliciting electricity to hum inside of her. Oh yeah, Logan Cale set her on fire. 

"You clean up nice," his voice rumbled, resonating in her, right down to the bone. 

"So do you." she approved, admiring how well he wore the tux, the refined elegance of the single-breasted black jacket off-setting his ocean of eyes and chiselled good looks. "Shall we?" 

With a slight nod, Logan turned on his wheel, and together, they made their way out of Jam Pony side by side. 

* * * * * 

"So," Max started, fastening her seat belt, "got any warnings or pointers to tell me about this wedding? Anyone you should tell me about?" 

Logan completely missed her surreptitious sub-question and chuckled easily, "My father's side of the family may be a bit... snooty, granted, but it's OK. I'll steer you 'round the curves." 

Max scowled a little and pushed forward with her line of questioning, "So there's no-one who's shared a notable past with you? No one that deserves a special mention?" 

"Oh," he said and Max prepared herself to be told about Daphne, "well, there is my Uncle Jonas and Aunt Margot, Bennett's parents, and, well, let's just say even my mother tried to avoid them and she was the most understanding woman I've known." 

A momentary cloud traipsed over Logan's features and Max, taking note of this slight change, decided not to press any further. 

"Hey," he broke the gentle silence that had been gathering in the small confines of the car, and reaching into his breast-pocket, "would you go over my speech with me?" 

She accepted the cards from him and steadied herself against the motion of the car, "Sure. Shoot." 

"Ok," Logan cleared his throat and she studied his nervous demeanour carefully. Strange that the man that delivered cable hacks to millions of people every week could be scared of a little public speaking. "'Marriage is an act of daring which requires that we be brave enough to promise ourselves forever..." 

"Got that right," Max murmured, musing on her own cowardice when it came to commitment. Darren, Leo, and, God, most of all, Logan. 

"Hmm?" he questioned glancing at her over the rim of his tiny little glasses that made her just want to... 

Max blushed furiously and covered quickly, "Oh, uh, nothing. Go on." 

"Right, 'It', uh, 'It requires we entrust our most secret inner selves to them.'" Logan continued, and Max found herself wondering if he had done so for Valerie, and then realised she really didn't want to be thinking about that. "'When Bennett first told me about Marian..." 

"Marianne." Max corrected. 

"What?" 

"Marianne," she clarified, "you said 'Marian'." 

"Which is it?" 

Skimming over the cards again, Max told him, "It says Marianne. You don't know the bride's name?" 

Logan grimaced as he admitted, "I never met her. God." 

Max found this peculiar and yet so like the isolated introvert that she knew Logan to be now. "Remind me to take you to Crash to meet my peeps sometime." 

Logan visibly paled, "Uh, in case you haven't noticed, Max, they're not exactly my crowd." 

She shot him a look, "Well, in case _you_ haven't noticed, Logan, tonight's crowd ain't exactly my peeps either. Way I see it, we'd be even." 

Knowing she was right, but remembering his earlier resolution to gradually withdraw himself from her, lest he get too attached, he muttered "We'll see," and left it at that. 

* * * * * 

The wedding had been gorgeous and Max had even caught herself crying when the vows had been exchanged. Now, at the reception, she couldn't help but feel continually on edge, even when she and Logan had been encountered by his Uncle Jonas, when Logan had told him about his mother's locket now hanging from his Aunt Margot's neck and when she had left him in a huff about his inability to defend himself against his family, Max found herself incessantly on the lookout for any girl that remotely could have fit her description of Daphne. Unfortunately, every social butterfly that flitted through her vision in a beautiful ball gown seemed to fit it and Max was left in constant agony, mentally willing each and every one away from Logan. 

When Max saw her, though, when she saw the instant way Logan's face lit up and the way her name "Daphne," seemed to roll off his tongue with a reverence that she had thought was reserved only for her, Max found it could only get worse. 

Max walked casually up to them, evidently invading an animated conversation as Logan's laugh, a carefree, precious sound, made it's way to her ears. You didn't need to be a genetically-engineered chimera with super-hearing to tell that the laugh came from the heart. 

"Max. Say hi to Daphne. My, uh, old friend. We went to Yale together." 

Noticing the way he didn't look at her when addressing her, the way he couldn't take his eyes off Daphne, Max could master little more than pushing a small "Oh," past her lips. 

"Hi," Daphne offered and Max thought she could feel sunshine radiating from the simple greeting. 

"She's an amazing artist." 

"Really..." Max tried hard to maintain a facade of detached interest, to not show how the pride shining through his words touched her. 

"Mmmhmm," Logan replied, a slow grin spreading across his features. 

"I've been meaning to tell you how lovely that dress looks on you." 

Max wanted to tell Daphne how Logan had chosen it for her when they'd gone shopping together, how his jaw had touched the floor when he'd first seen her in it, but with the earnest sincerity written plainly on Daphne's face, Max found she couldn't bring herself to do it, "Thankyou." 

Her pager decided at that moment to go off and Max gratefully took her leave of them, the beaming should-be couple, to answer the page. 

* * * * * 

Logan looked around the crowd that had gathered around him and gulped. This wasn't going to be pretty. 

"Marriage is an act of desperation... uh, daring. It's an act of daring... and uh, and it, it requires, really, that we be foolish enough to promise ourselves to another...brave. Brave, it's brave. 

"When Bennett first told me that he, uh, had fallen in love with... uh... a beautiful... wonderful woman... uh..." 

Floundering, Logan was infused with relief when he saw Max floating into the room, mouthing him the words, saving him, again. 

"Marianne...I told him that...he was lucky...to have found someone to share his life with." Smiling, he saw only her as the words suddenly tumbled out of his mouth, the most natural he had ever spoken, "They crossed paths by fate but became partners by choice and together they are embarking on the greatest adventure two people can share." 

As the applause faded and the crowd dispersed, he found himself faced by his saviour, cocky half-grin adorning her luscious, painted lips, and he felt his heart leap at the fact that she was here with _him_. 

"Nice speech." 

"Thanks for coming to the rescue." 

Max shrugged, "Better late than never." 

Logan found his interest piqued "Where were you anyway?" 

She grimaced a little, remembering how he'd ignored her when she'd tried to tell him before, how immersed he was in his conversation with Daphne involving something about undressing her, and, well, that's all she cared to remember, really. "Long story." 

Frowning at the darkening of her mood, Logan offered, "Anything I can help with?" 

"I've got it covered," Max replied, but looking at her pager when it beeped at her, she found herself corrected, "apparently not." 

Calling out after her retreating back, "Be careful out there," Logan couldn't help but feel he'd done something wrong. She was back to treating him with the same distance she had earlier that week, hiding something from him, and he had no idea what it was or how he'd be able to find out. 

Sighing, he turned the direction of his uncle's call and decided to file it away in his brain and try to figure it out later. 

* * * * * 

With the intel she'd gained from Logan, Max set out to get the stupid painting that had been holding her up all night and get Normal's incompetent ass out of gangster hands. Having Original Cindy tag along, however, was not an option. 

Sidling up to her best friend on the dance floor, Max nodded at her, "I got the 411 on the location of the painting and I'm all over it. You should... stay. Enjoy the party." 

Original Cindy snorted and Max's heart skipped a beat, expecting a rejection of her suggestion, "No need to tell me twice, suga. Original Cindy never been known to say no to this much free food." 

"Aiight," Max smiled, turning to leave, "I'll be back in a second." 

Cindy grabbed at her arm, whispering secretively into her ear, "So which one is she anyway?" 

Max feigned indifference and shrugged nonchalantly, "Over there. Tall, blonde, gorgeous. Draped all over Logan." 

Original Cindy cast a glance over to where her boo's boy was parked, spotting the woman next to him who had lightly perched her delicate fingers over his arm as they shared a joke. 

"_That's_ Daphne, the girl that's had your head spinnin' all week?" she asked, sounding less than impressed, "Boo, she ain't Logan's type." 

"She's not?" Max asked, somewhat sceptically. 

Cindy grinned at her, "Not when I'll be done with her. Girl is way too fine to be playin' for the wrong team." 

Max chuckled, shaking her head at her friend's intentions, "Thanks boo," and left the party. 

* * * * * 

Max strolled back into the party with a new surge of confidence. Biondello's career, along with Normal's ass, was saved, and somewhere in the corners, she could see Daphne and Original Cindy gently flirting with each other. She afforded herself a small smile as she moved into the spot next to Logan, almost lost in the crush of women hoping to get a chance at catching the bouquet. 

"Mission accomplished," she softly told him, expecting a sign of approval in return. 

"Where's the painting?" he asked instead. 

Max, trying her best at patience, replied, "I gave it to DuVallier." 

"You did what?" Logan bit back. 

Max wasn't even trying to hear him, "What was I supposed to do? He was gonna kill Normal." 

"Oh, that's fine. We can't just let this guy swing with an original Norman Rockwell. It's a piece of American culture." 

Max's mood quickly turned sour as she asked with one hand on her hip, "Why does everything have to turn into a cause with you?", silently wondering if that's all she was to him. A means to an end. 

"Look. I stood there and watched them ship the Baseball Hall of Fame from Cooperstown to Kyota. The Sultan of Brunei crated up the Statue of Liberty and took it home with him." Logan pushed on, trying to not let Max's obvious displeasure affect him. "One day this depression is gonna be over and when it is..." 

In a sudden flash of motion, Max was gone and just as quickly returned to him, in the interval, the bouquet having been diverted from Daphne's obvious waiting hands to Original Cindy's. 

"You were saying?" Max asked innocently, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. 

Logan wondered at her motivation for such a move, but let it slide, continuing his tirade, "I was saying, one day this depression will be over and when it is it would be nice if there were something left." 

Max sighed, giving up the information, knowing Logan wouldn't back down until she gave it to him, "Normal heard DuVallier talk about flipping it over to some dude in Singapore for a while. Supposed to leave tonight except the airport's closed." 

"Just reopened." Logan sparked into action, hands already on his wheels, "The bride and groom called to check their flight. I need you to get out to the international terminal." 

"I haven't even had my cake yet!" Max retorted, exasperated, already knowing there was no two ways out of this. Logan was already moving, "Where are you going?" 

"I'll meet you there in half an hour. I gotta run an errand. Excuse me." And without further ado, he was gone. 

* * * * * 

The stint at the airport was pulled off without a hitch and now Max and Logan were back home, lounging on one of his plush sofas, each cradling a mug of coffee and admiring the Rockwell that lay unravelled on Logan's coffee table. 

"While your uncle was getting sloshed you brought a killer to justice and saved an American art treasure. Maybe it's time you brought him up to speed that you're not the family failure." 

Logan smiled gently at the undertone of pride that rode through her words, "I could be the messiah and walk on water and he would still say, 'Why can't you fly?' For whatever reason he needs to see me as a loser." 

"Shame." Max replied softly, implying that she didn't think of him as one. 

"Well, I'm lucky to have him. He's a good reminder of what I don't want to become. A lying, cheating, commercialist stuck in a loveless, dishonest marriage." 

Logan watched as Max winced at the last description, sensing that somehow they cut deeper, applying to more than the man she'd just met. Logan bit his lip, deciding her happiness was worth a little more than his pride, "Max, I've been noticing in the past week that you've seemed a little... withdrawn. Distanced. And more than a little unhappy... And I can't help but feel that it's my fault. Did I... do something? Was it something I..." 

"No, nothing like that," Max cut him off, sensing how much courage it took him to say those words. 

"Then what is it?" he asked, messing up his hair with a frustrated hand. 

"It's..." Max started, but chickened out, "nothing. Look it's over now, let's just forget about it, forget it ever..." 

"No, Max," Logan turned to her, a sense of urgency rising in his voice, "if there's something that was upsetting you, I'd like to know..." 

"Logan, just drop it..." 

"Max..." 

"Alright!" Max stopped him, raising her voice considerably, "It was Daphne, okay?" 

"Daphne?" Logan asked, perplexed, "What about her?" 

Max drew a sigh, knowing there was no backing out from here, and rooted her gaze firmly in the bottom of her cup, "I... I overheard the message Bennett left on your machine." 

"What message?" Logan questioned, then realisation dawned on him, "Oh. That message." 

"Right," Max continued, not looking up, "and, I guess it kinda bugged me when you didn't tell me right away what was going on with her... Not that you had any idea I'd heard the message. So anyway, we go to the party together, but it seems that everyone forgets that _I'm_ there with you, you, Daphne, your Aunt..." 

"My Aunt?" Logan bristled, his protective streak rising, "Did she say anything to you?" 

"No," Max allowed herself a small smile, "she was just talking to one of the guests. Something about how Daphne looked like she was about ready to settle down and how you needed someone to look after you... And then that whole bouquet thing..." 

"Wait," Logan interrupted, "so this whole big dealio has been based on things you've overheard? On conjecture?" 

"I guess," she admitted somewhat sheepishly. 

"Max," he took her cup away and covered her hands with his, imploring her to look at him, "why didn't you just ask?" 

"Would you have?" her eyes snapped up at him, "if some ex of mine came round, chatted up a storm with me, and all my friends were saying how good me and him were together, would you feel any _need_ to ask?" 

"No," Logan growled, and Max felt a shock at how dark his usually bright blue eyes could turn. 

Recovering from his reaction, Logan only tightened his grip on her hands, "I'm sorry, I guess I just didn't think... I didn't think that you cared to know. The thing with Daphne is... well, we were engaged for all of five minutes... and then she dumped me. Out of the blue. And I guess I didn't want you to know. The thing is she never gave me a reason. Maybe that's why I spent the whole night talking to her, to find out why." 

Encouraged by the way her eyes softened and lost their slight edge of animosity from before, Logan continued, "And about what everyone else was saying, screw them. They don't know what's best for me." His voice dropped to tones barely above a whisper, "What I want. And besides, I already have someone to take care of me." 

She smiled and he found himself wishing he had the luxury of losing himself in it, but things, as usual, were a little more complicated than that. 

He straightened up, letting go of her hands, feeling his resolve slipping, "And you were absolutely right about Aunt Margot. I'm gonna get in her face about that locket. After all, it was my mom's..." 

Reaching into her purse, Max produced a twirling, glimmering something that looked so much like... "How did you..." 

"Genetically engineered pickpocket." she answered by way of explanation, settling his mother's locket in his palm. 

"Thank you." He whispered, and by the way he was looking at her, looking straight through to her soul, she could tell he meant for more than the locket. 

Squirming under his gaze, she got up from the couch, her dress sashaying with her every movement. 

"Did I mention how beautiful you looked last night?" he asked suavely, night having turned to day as the sunlight caught and highlighted her smiling features. 

"Not by word, no." She remarked, acknowledging his intense scrutiny over her body. 

"Well, you did. In fact, you were the most beautiful woman there." 

"I better get ready for work," Max made for her exit, "I don't think Normal would understand me turning up to work in a six thousand dollar ball gown, which, by the way, was a complete waste of money." 

"No it wasn't," Logan insisted, his soft voice taking a turn for husky as his gaze lingered on her, "and I don't really think he'd be doing much complaining..." 

Transfering himself to his wheelchair and then turning on his wheel to take his post at the kitchen, Logan banged his foot on one of the coffee table's legs. 

"Ow." 

Max re-entered the living room, "Everything OK, Logan?" and watched as he spun his chair around to purposefully hit his foot again, this time eliciting a louder gasp of pain. 

Half-laughing, half in silent awe, Logan turned to Max, sensation still ringing in his leg.   


**END PART 4/?   
  
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